


And Then He Walked Away

by Longcat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Archangels, Backstory, POV Gabriel, Pagan Gods, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longcat/pseuds/Longcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic from Gabriel's point of view of his story.</p>
<p>Father of Mine by Everclear</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then He Walked Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to My_Untold_Lies/Krisn5 for beta reading and catching my phone typos.

First we weren't, then we were. He created us from nothing, we were his firsts, his children. He made us to keep him company, to help him with his works, and later to fight for him. He created others as well to help maintain his projects and record his stories. But we were his greatest weapons. And he used us as such. We didn't fail him, and how could we? We were perfect, we were fierce, we were absolute. He made us his most terrifying weapons. And when we had defeated the darkness and had her locked away he left.

_ Father of mine _   
_ Tell me where have you been _   
_ You know I just closed my eyes _   
_ My whole world disappeared _

He just left. Where we were his children, he was our everything. And then we had nothing, except each other and the drifting words he left behind. Our younger siblings looked up to us to continue what was there, at first unaware that he had even left. We tried to cobble things together but we were too different. Had too many conflicting ideas, and we were changing. Some faster than others, but the change was there. And then the anger started. It laced our words with white fire, always the four of us, the two oldest especially. I tried to keep it from the younger ones, I tried to keep it from myself.

_ Father of mine _   
_ Take me back to the day _   
_ When I was still your golden boy _   
_ Back before you went away _

I ran away, not far at first. But I started my running early. Their fights were getting louder hotter. I ran into the ranks of the younger ones. I held them close and tried to teach them. Teach them the good that he had created for us to watch over. The beautiful things that we should maintain. Wondrous stories that would come about from his final creations that would be worth preserving and sharing. I ran from the dark fighting and tried to recreate the warm feeling I had with him before he left us. I tried to for them, they needed to know the gold light before the dark enveloped them too.

_ I remember the blue skies, walking the block _   
_ I loved it when you held me high _   
_ I loved to hear you talk _

Some took the message to heart and really truly believed. They wanted direction and I wanted peace and love. For a while we helped each other in his absence. An absence that only a few were aware of. For a while it helped me forget the pain of it. It helped me forget their fighting. But it would always find a way back to me. They thought I was capable of much more, that I should choose one of them over the other and help them rule in his place. They couldn't hear themselves anymore. This wasn't what he had told us what he wanted of us at all before he left.

_ You would take me to the movie _   
_ You would take me to the beach _   
_ Take me to a place inside that is so hard to reach _

My escapes began simple. I would test the limits of what the others would let me do. I often did it under the guise of teaching the younger ones. I would take small groups down to his final creation, the world we helped him fill with creatures and life. This would be my hideout when the time came. But until then I used it as my way of passing his requests onto the others. Let them see the love he had for his creations and let them learn the same love. It didn't always work, at times the fighting from the oldest two was overwhelming.

_ Father of mine _   
_ Tell me where did you go _   
_ You had the world inside your hand _   
_ But you did not seem to know _

They had divided and split into sides, pulling me into it against my will. They forced me to listen as they shouted themselves hoarse. Each trying to convince me to choose a side between the oldest two. But I couldn't. I loved them, the way he had told us to love. I wanted them to stop, to return to how we were before he used us as weapons. I yelled my unwillingness to pick between two that I loved. I thought maybe they'd see that I loved them equally, but they saw it as a chance to defeat the other to win me. And they turned on each other with new found anger.

_ Father of mine _   
_ Tell me what do you see _   
_ When you look back at your wasted life and you don't see me _

I was always running, especially after the two oldest turned on each other. It was violent and the ripples of it caused fear and uncertainty among the rest. It was the first time I think they realized that he wasn't with us anymore. That he had abandoned us. I was done with it. Done with the lying, done with trying to protect their innocence, but mostly done with the fighting. I left for his final creation, and I tried to hide among his greatest work. I knew more hiding places than any of the others. It would take them forever to find me if they ever stopped their fighting to look.

_ I was ten years old _   
_ Doing all that I could _   
_ It wasn't easy for me to be a scared white boy in a black neighborhood _

I didn't fit in among the new beings of this world. Beings that he hadn't created, beings of power that were born from minds of his finest creations. There weren't many of them early on, and that eventually changed but not until after I had met one the older ones. One who had been there almost as long his finest creations had. Anansi, he called himself, the spider, the story weaver. He took me in when I was scared and fearful, unsure of my place in this new realm. Helped me change my name, gave me a story, a new mask with personality, hope for the future, helped me where my father had failed.

_ Sometimes you would send me a birthday card _   
_ With a five dollar bill _   
_ I never understood you then and I guess I never will _

There were times when I was with Anansi that seeing the world as if it was brand new, as if I hadn't been a part in its making. A few times I thought I had seen his face in his work, thought I had heard his whisper. Only to be reminded that he had abandoned us, abandoned me. I was angry and sad, at him, at my siblings, at myself. Anansi helped me find a way to direct my feelings into something more productive. He said to always leave a story, and to avoid continuity errors. I liked him.

_ Daddy gave me a name _   
_ My dad he gave me a name _   
_ Then he walked away _   
_ Daddy gave me a name _   
_ Then he walked away _   
_ My dad gave me a name _

I changed, I had been changing since he left, but I had finally changed. I wasn't who I was when I left. I was something new, completely different from what came before me or what stood beside me. But they accepted me as one of them and let me into their pantheons. I joined in union with them becoming not just another of them, but creating new beings alongside them. My story was good, and I had created for myself a task I not only excelled at but truly loved. I found a place where I occasionally felt the essence of home.

_ Father of mine _   
_ Tell me where have you been _   
_ I just closed my eyes _   
_ And the world disappeared _

But it was never the same, never would be the same. I threw myself into their lifestyle. Living to excess, loving to excess. The only thing I kept in moderation was the true extent of my abilities. After all I was one of his most absolute weapons. I learned their powers for myself, adapting them, hiding my own within theirs. Using it to further my story and carve my new existence deeper into my being. It would take nothing short of the Apocalypse to bring me back from this perfect hiding spot.

_ Father of mine _   
_ Tell me how do you sleep _   
_ With the children you abandoned _   
_ And the wife I saw you beat _

Anansi was a storyteller, he had taught me that stories were the lifeblood of the people. They lived and died by them. I became a storyteller in my own right. Still teaching as I had done with my younger siblings, but this time with his own creations. They would act out in a cruel or devious manner and I would weave them a story of their own undoing. Even though these were his creations they were now mine to teach. Oh I loved them, just as he had told us to do. But I wanted them to learn the same lesson I had yearned for when my siblings were thick amidst their fighting; peace and love.

_ I will never be safe _   
_ I will never be sane _   
_ I will always be weird inside _   
_ I will always be lame _

I could feel them. It started out dull at first, but eventually the strength of their song rung out in my head, rattling me at my core. It was going to start again. The end game. I knew it as soon as I saw those two yahoos when they interrupted one of my favorite stories. They reminded me of the two oldest before the fought, before I ran. The two oldest whom I loved too much to choose sides. It made my heart hurt to know that the fight was being brought down to this world, this place I had made a new home. I knew I couldn't keep running for much longer. But could I hold it off or make it go quicker, like ripping a bandaid off?

_ Now I am a grown man _   
_ With a child of my own _   
_ And I swear I'm not going to let her know _   
_ All the pain I have known _

I had to check on them one last time. My very own children. They played their own roles in their own version of the end of days, but not yet, not their time. This was my end game. The end of the story I had been running from since it started. Since he left me, something I had promised to myself that I wouldn't do to them. I knew I was going to break that promise, but I was going to do it on my own terms. Or as best as I could. They didn't need to know me for the absolute fearsome weapon that I was. Just the troublesome father that they loved and who loved them in return.

_ Then he walked away _   
_ Daddy gave me a name _   
_ Then he walked away _   
_ My dad gave me a name _   
_ Then he walked away _

The two who had reminded me of my siblings had me believe that they could end the fighting that had always been. I wanted to believe them with all my heart. I didn't want anymore fighting. I don't think I wanted anything more than the end of the fighting. Maybe for him to return to us, to smile at us as he told his own stories. Stories that created worlds and awakened life. Stories better than anything I could come up with on my own. To return the warmth of a golden embrace and chase away the darkness that was eating away at our hearts. That would be the best end to the fighting. If he just returned.


End file.
